


bloom

by figure8



Category: K-pop, SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff, Heteronormativity, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 10:51:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18776791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/figure8/pseuds/figure8
Summary: “So you like it up the ass,” Jun says, classy as always.





	bloom

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sirenic (noctiphany)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noctiphany/gifts).



> bruh don't look at me... sometimes your friend says she needs to see mingyu get pegged and you just have to deliver, ya feel 
> 
> this is absolutely not beta read and also i categorically refuse to reread it so uhh sorry for any typos/linguistic horrors/general terribleness
> 
> heteronormativity tag mostly there bc liiight straight cis guy anxiety about liking butt stuff. but it's like, blink and you'll miss it 
> 
> alternatively: kim mingyu - stupid as all fuck, respects women, gets pegged

_and it’s true, babe_

_i've been saving this for you_

 

“So,” Jun huffs, one perfectly plucked eyebrow arched as she surveys him.

“Uh,” Mingyu says intelligently, the back of his neck burning. “Yeah.”

Between them, his open bedside drawer feels like an unbridgeable canyon. He’s not quite sure what he’s supposed to be feeling. Probably shame, and he _does,_ but the base of his spine is also tingling, and that—well. Inside the drawer, among other things, his purple vibrator looks _surreally_ purple; impossible to miss, a glaring confession.

“So you like it up the ass,” Jun says, classy as always.

“I—,” Mingyu starts, then cuts himself off, sighing. The thing is, this wouldn’t be embarrassing if this wasn’t their second date. He _likes_ this girl. He’s trying to impress her. Also, they have a best friend in common. If Minghao gets wind of this he’s _never_ going to let Mingyu live it down. Not the whole liking to get fucked thing, Minghao knows about that and also has no ground to stand on, but the—you know. Having Jun discover his toy stash before they’ve even gotten to second base.

But, well, this _is_ who he is, after all. There’s no point in pretending otherwise. “Yeah,” he finishes, voice a little more assured. “I do.”

“Cool,” Jun shrugs, not a drop of mockery in her voice. She pushes the drawer closed, and opens the one right under. “Ah- _ha!_ ” she brandishes a bandaid triumphantly. “Found you.”

With all this, Mingyu almost forgot she was initially rummaging through his things because he’s an idiot who cannot open a bottle of beer without slicing his thumb on the cap.

She drags him to the bathroom, insists on disinfecting the tiny cut, wraps the pink bandage around his finger, and presses a light kiss over it. By that point he’s too busy drafting seventy texts to Minghao in his mind—all variations of _UHHH?? I’M IN LOVE WITH HER??_ —for any of the embarrassment to persist.

So all in all, it’s nothing—a funny story, an anecdote he will recount fondly if their relationship actually lasts. He shakes his head, tucks it away in a corner of his brain. Nothing.

 

:::

 

Except, well, they end up getting to second base, and to third, and to basically all the bases, and Mingyu cannot stop _thinking_ about it. Starts dreaming about it, literally. Wakes up with his boxers sticky like he’s thirteen all over again.

The issue, really, is that while Mingyu has explored the endless possibilities of anal play alone in his bedroom—and sometimes his shower—over the years, he’s never actually had another person fuck him. No one other than Minghao has ever known, and because Mingyu is thoroughly incapable of seeing his best friend sexually, _that_ was never an issue. But now, when he closes his eyes he sees Jun smirking, he hears her tease— _so you like it up the ass?_

And it’s a _problem._

And see, the thing is, it’s been a few months now. What they have, it’s easy and it’s comfortable. They hold hands when they walk down the street, and he heard Jun call him _my boyfriend_ once even though they’ve never really talked about it, and they’ve stopped referring to everything they do together as _going on dates._ When he sees her, sometimes, it’s less like the proverbial butterflies in his stomach and more like a stone hand crashing through his sternum, but the point is—the point is when she laughs it’s a little like laying down under the sun, warmth taking over his body gradually, somehow simultaneously ablaze and safe.

“So, you’re in love with her,” Minghao stares at him blankly when Mingyu voices that last part out loud.

“Yeah,” Mingyu blushes, rubbing the back of his neck, _and I also want her to pound me into the mattress,_ but he doesn’t tell Minghao _that._

 

:::

 

He lets it slip while they’re having perfectly socially acceptable penis-in-vagina sex. Well, as socially acceptable as it can be when she’s riding him and he’s handcuffed to the headboard and she has a hand around the base of his throat, but, you know.

“Next time,” he pants, because he’s so close he’s going _crazy,_ and his brain-to-mouth filter is long gone, “You should fuck me.”

She smiles at that, moves her hand so she’s cupping his jaw. “I _am_ fucking you, baby.”

And, well, she’s not _wrong._ She’s bouncing on his dick, but there’s little to no room for doubt on who exactly is doing the fucking. Still, it’s not what he meant.

“You know what I mean,” he mumbles, turning his face into her open palm.

“I do,” she nods, tender. “You want that? You want me to dick you down, baby?”

She couples the question with a change in rhythm, slowing down, her voice sugary-sweet. He strains against the cuffs, his fingers clenching around thin air, itching to grab her by the hips.

“Please,” he rasps.

She stills completely above him. He might actually go mad. “Use you words, sweetheart.”

His entire face feels like it’s on fire. But she’s not torturing him because she thinks he’s weird, and even through the haze of lust he knows that. She wants him to say it because she wants to be sure. He loves that, about her.

He loves her.

“Want you to fuck me,” he lets it out, opens the window for the bird to flee. “Want you to fuck my ass, Junnie.” She makes a satisfied sound, starts moving again, hot and tight around him.

When she bends down to kiss him it’s proprietary, assertive. Her hair cascades and frames both their faces, like theater curtains, hiding them from the world. He lets her lead the dance like she’s led most things tonight. It’s not always like this, but if he’s being honest, it’s like this most of the time.

“I’ll take such good care of you, baby,” she whispers, words hot against the shell of his ear. “If you let me,” she continues, and he can feel her clenching around his cock, “I’m going to fuck you so good, I’m going to make you scream—”

His orgasm rips through him sharp like lightning, pleasure shooting up his spine as he comes with a strangled stream of swears. She follows barely a breath behind him, her back arching, her moans sweet music in tandem with his.

When they’ve both caught their breaths and she has unlocked the handcuffs and they’re back in bed, curled up against each other, she looks up at him, head pillowed on his torso.

“If you really want to,” she says sleepily, “I’ll bring stuff over next time. Or, like,” she corrects herself after a beat of silence, “Any other time.”

He threads his fingers through her soft blond hair, presses a kiss to her forehead. “Maybe not—next time? But yeah. I do want to.”

She emits a happy noise at that, a little bit like a kitten who’s just gotten a new toy. She’s cute. She’s cute, and warm and solid against him, and unbelievably sexy too, and somehow his to hold for now. He trusts her, he thinks. Wants her inside him, not just because she knows, but because it’s her.

 

:::

 

It takes them a few weeks, in the end. They warm up to it. She makes him come on her fingers, takes her time opening him up, filth pouring from her lips as she coaxes a shattering orgasm out of him. Another time she watches as he fucks himself with the vibrator, jerks off fast and rough while it’s on the highest setting. She sits on his face after, and she’s so wet and vocal and _into it_ that he gets hard again in barely half an hour like some sort of horny teenager. They fuck face to face and he tells her she’s the best, pants against her sweat-slicked collarbone that he wants to keep her forever. It’s not exactly the confession he wants to be making, but it’s close enough.

 

:::

 

It’s a Friday night, they just got back from the movie theater and they’re lazily making out in the middle of her hallway when Jun smiles against his lips, asks in a low whisper, “Hey, can _I_ have you tonight?”

And for the very first time since he started envisioning it, the thought doesn’t provoke any sort of worry within him. Blue sky, no clouds; just devastating, dizzying desire. It flashes through his body sudden and potent, like she just flicked a switch and now it’s _flooding._

“Yeah,” he says. “Yes.”

Her hand slips under his shirt, caressing upwards. “Good boy,” she giggles. It’s a joke. It still makes his gut constrict tightly around nothing. She plays with power, but she doesn’t quite understand yet, and Mingyu doesn’t know how to tell her.

As she walks him to her room, hands linked, he thinks of her in her white sundress. He thinks of how she exists so loudly and brightly, of the sharp colors in her voice. When she dances her hair is always up in a severe tight bun, and the first time he watched her he remembers being unable to look away from her exposed neck, the elegant slope of her shoulders. She knows she’s pretty, he’s fairly certain, but he doesn’t think she realizes how much exactly.

Once they’re in her room she pushes him gently on the bed, palm on his chest. He goes easily, willing. She gets undressed first, and he observes her greedily as she does. It’s a show, even if it’s very tame. She’s messy, in life. Her apartment is more organized chaos than Ikea catalog. Usually when they have sex she just throws her clothes on the floor haphazardly, way more preoccupied with getting _naked_ than with being sexy. She takes her time here. Pops the nacre buttons of her silk blouse open slowly, one by one, her gaze locked with his. Unzips her skirt, lets it fall around her ankles, props herself up onto her vanity to pull off her black tights. She’s wearing blue lace panties and a bra that matches. He wishes he could take her picture.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, voice raw and a little too honest.

She chuckles. “You don’t have to flatter me, Mingyu, I’m not going to like, change my mind.”

“No,” he insists, extends a hand that she accepts, pulls her close. He presses a kiss to her stomach. “You’re really, really beautiful.”

She buries a hand in his black hair, grabs and forces him to angle his head up and look her in the eye. For a long minute they say nothing.

“Get naked for me,” she orders finally, and she sounds a little hoarse, and it’s rewarding, to know she’s affected too, even if she’s better at containing it. He pulls his t-shirt over his head, drops his jeans to the floor, then steps out of his boxers too. She’s seen him like this countless times but tonight he feels a little vulnerable, on the edge of her bed.

“You’re beautiful too, you know,” Jun says.

He tilts his head to the side, pouts. “Not handsome?”

“That too,” she nods, easy. “But beautiful, especially like this. It’s the right word.”

She unhooks her bra, one swift movement behind her back. He loves her breasts. It’s awfully cliche of him, really—they’re too big to fit in his palms, and he has _large_ hands. He likes pressing his face between them when she’s riding him. She’s sensitive, too. He can get her so wet just by playing with her nipples, and she’s her loudest when he has his mouth on them. He just—he’s a boob man, okay? It gets him going. So when he sees her topless his mind goes blank for a second and he forgets what they’re supposed to be doing, which might explain why when he sees her put on the harness he has this weird out of body experience where he hears his own voice go _oh, okay._

She turns around, holding her hand around the base of the dildo. It’s a deep red, slightly curved, nothing impressive length-wize but it _does_ look unyielding and _thick._ It looks good, jutting out of the harness, the crimson color contrasting nicely with the black leather. It looks _hot._ The rest of her, too, is hot. Muscled thighs, a dancer’s body. And the way she’s staring back at him, hungry and tender.

“Look alive,” she grins, and tosses him a half empty bottle of lube. He narrowly escapes getting knocked out thanks to whatever reflexes he has left from varsity basketball, a lifetime ago.

He huffs. “You trying to kill me?”

“Shut up, I add spice to your life. Hey,” her tone shifts a little, hesitancy seeping through. “Get yourself ready for me?”

He thinks she tried going for commanding, but she lands on _questioning_ instead.

He nods, uncaps the lube. She watches intently as he slicks up his fingers, as he spreads his legs and works them inside himself. His most elaborate fantasies about this always included her fingering him open, maybe sucking his dick at the same time, but this—the intensity of her gaze, it’s almost as good. It gets better when she starts talking, when she tells him he looks good like this, that she can’t wait to be inside him, that he’s going to look even better on her cock. He lets out a small whimper at that, splutters “I’m ready, I’m— _please._ ”

She rearranges him how he wants him; face down, ass up, bracing himself on his elbows, legs spread. Runs her fingers down his spine, then follows the same path with her lips, tiny close-mouthed kisses. Through the thick cloud of arousal he is overtaken by a wave of fondness, the combination overwhelming.

When she pushes into him, he’s physically ready, nice and open and slicked up, and yet it still punches the air out of his lungs. He wishes he could see her. Next time, he thinks, hazy, they should do it in front of a mirror. He’ll take the humiliation of watching himself if it means he can have his eyes on her the whole time too.

She rolls her hips, and it’s _tight,_ and _good,_ and he groans into the inside of his wrist.

“You like that, baby?” she murmurs. “You’re good?”

“Yes,” he gasps. She thrusts up again, and he repeats it, “Yes, yes, _please_.”

Hands on his hips, Jun pulls him towards her. Like that all he can do is take it, the full force of her thrusts as she fucks him slow and deep. He wants her deeper, somehow. The fire spreads through his veins, like sea levels rising. The way she takes him, it’s harsh, but the way she bends down every now and then to kiss his shoulder blades, it’s—

Well, in a way, that too is terrible.

“Please,” he says again, like that’s the only word he knows now. His left hand clutches at the bedsheets, spasming, his cheek pressing into the mattress. “Harder, Junnie, I can take harder.”

“You can?” she teases. “You want it harder, baby? I can do harder. I can fuck you so hard you will feel me for _days,_ ” she finishes, but her rhythm remains the _same,_ and he almost screams in frustration. “You have to ask, baby,” she soothes, one palm sliding up his side. “You have to ask nicely.”

“Oh my God,” he whines. “Jesus, Junnie, please.” He’s so fucking close it _aches,_ cock leaking against the bed.

Her hand finds his nape, presses his face forward into the sheets. “You can do better.”

Something snaps, inside him. A coil that unfurls, blade cutting into ribbon, floodgates opening. “Please,” he begs, “Please fuck me, please just fuck me, I need you, I need it, Junnie—”

“Oh, love,” she sighs, and snaps her hips forward, driving so deep into him he _hiccups._ He bites his forearm as she amps her speed, muffles his increasingly loud moans into his own skin. She’s nailing his prostate with every thrust now, sending sparks up his nervous system, electricity running along his bones. It feels a little bit like being taken apart, like existing outside his own self. It builds within, strong, and he feels it coming from very far away, in slow motion.

“Fuck,” he cries out, “Oh, _fuck,”_ and almost at the same time she grunts “Yeah, _take_ it.”

When he finally comes he nearly sobs with relief, releasing a string of broken curses as she pounds into him, fucks him until he’s all spent.

“Jesus,” he repeats, a little stunned, “I’ve never—I’ve never come without touching myself before.”

He’s in a daze, sinking into cotton, somewhere between two worlds. She pets his hair, laughing softly against his shoulder blade, and she pulls out slowly. Unable to move for a second, heavy against the mattress, he hears her get rid of the strap-on.

“Oh,” he realizes belatedly, frowning, “You, you didn’t.”

Jun rolls onto her side to face him. “It’s okay,” she says. “This was for you.”

“Yeah, no,” he snorts, “Fuck that. Come here.”

Roles reversed, Jun under him, he kisses her thoroughly first, tongue in mouth. She takes his face in both hands, moans against his lips. He slips a hand between her legs and finds her wetter than he’s ever touched her. It makes something stir within him, to know she thought it was hot, that he really looked good enough to leave her yearning. That she loved fucking him as much as he loved getting fucked.

He rubs his thumb over her clit, very very light at first. He’s wanted to put his mouth on her tits all night, so he does just that, sucks on one nipple, teeth nipping gently, rolls the other between two fingers. She arches up against him, like her body doesn’t know in which direction to go first. Then he kisses his way down her front until he’s at her navel, and there he waits for her to spread her legs.

He loves how she tastes. Loves the sounds she makes, above all, when he puts his mouth on her. He teases her with soft flicks of his tongue over her folds, presses two fingers inside her, tugging a long moan from her lips. When he spears his tongue inside her alongside his fingers her legs spasm, squeezing almost painfully over his ears, and he smiles against her pussy, terribly satisfied.

“Mingyu,” she gasps, hand in his hair, “Oh— _Mingyu_ —”

He wants to give that to her. He wants to make her feel good, wants to make her _let go._ He sucks on her clit and she _screams,_ her other hand shooting up to bang against the headboard. He feels her tense, and _this_ they have done enough times that he knows exactly what’s next—her full-body shudder, the new gush of wetness on his tongue as she pulses, her voice going high and cracked. She says his name again, and then she kicks at his shoulder weakly, hypersensitive. He plants one last kiss to the inside of her thigh.

“Ugh,” she drags a hand down her face, breath coming out short, “You’re so good at this.”

He feels himself blush, but mostly he’s grinning. He bumps softly against her side, not really cuddling but—touching.

“Well, you’re good at,” he gestures, and she dissolves into a fit of giggles.

He’s never laughed this much in bed, before meeting her.

“I guess I am,” she says, glint in her eye. “You wanna do this again, at some point? It was fun.”

“Yeah,” he says, trying his best not to appear overeager, and probably failing dramatically. And then he figures, really, this woman just fucked him in the ass. There’s not really any room left for shame or secrets.

What he _means_ to say is _hey, can we do it in front of a mirror next time?_

What he ends up saying is, for some inexplicable reason, “Jun, I’m in love with you.”

Mortified, he waits for the earth to crack open.

Instead all he gets is Jun arching an eyebrow, chin in hand. “Uh, duh,” she rolls her eyes. “You let me take your ass-virginity. Also, you look at me with like, this really stupid look on your face.”

“I feel like you’re being mean to me right now,” he says. “Are you being mean to me right now?”

“Absolutely,” she nods, delighted. “But it’s okay, because I love you too, so I get a pass.”

It’s hard to argue with that logic. He tugs her closer, instead. They’re both sweaty and gross and riding this weird orgasm high where they’re too relaxed to do anything but too wired to go to sleep. She’s too warm against him and he’s on the edge of the bed, precariously, a nudge away from falling.

He wouldn’t change anything, not for the world.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm just??? 
> 
> come say hi @ yifanapologist on twitter dot com ✌🏽


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